


Silhouette of a Storm

by Shaeydyrllah



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: BAMF Cecil, Carlos becomes an intern, Cecil to the rescue, Disguise, False Identity, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Insecurity, Inspired By Tumblr, Lying is illegal for a reason, M/M, Maureen is done with being an intern, Misunderstandings, Reality is malleable in Night Vale, Self-Doubt, accidentally, this got hella dramatic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:34:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22150375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaeydyrllah/pseuds/Shaeydyrllah
Summary: In Night Vale, more often than not, what you claim to be is what you are.Or, in which Carlos unwittingly becomes an intern.
Relationships: Carlos/Cecil Palmer
Comments: 14
Kudos: 74





	Silhouette of a Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, this idea originated in the 'WTNV group chat' on Tumblr  
> so credit to cenedrariva, iexistsup, kitty-grace, candiedlemonpops, socks-crocs-and-flipflops (if there were others let me know-the chat has started to delete itself)
> 
> Basically, Carlos wears an intern shirt one day and for that day he is treated as an intern, in mortal peril and a need to report.
> 
> There is an Obsidian Lamp-that may make you spill all of your secrets against your will
> 
> Also, a lot of inspiration came from the Magnus Archives, you should totally listen to it.

Carlos felt warm, so blissfully warm and safe, which was an unusual combination given what town he currently resided in. Not that warmth was unusual for a desert. Far too soon, that safety, the pressure of an adoring embrace vanished leaving him bereft.

“Ceec, come back to bed.” Carlos whined, he buried his face in Cecil’s pillow inhaling the scent of chamomile and iron.

A gentle press of a mouth deposited a kiss against his disastrously dishevelled hair. “Oh, lovely Carlos. I’d desire nothing more than to spend the morning intertwined with your perfect limbs.” He let out a soft sigh, “But I am a reporter, there are as many things for me to report as there is science for you to discover.”

Carlos flipped over, his disgruntled expression fading under the mesmerising softness of Cecil’s face. He reluctantly smiled up at his boyfriend, they had only been dating for a few months and yet Carlos found that the more he discovered about Cecil the more fascinating he became, truly the most amazing thing he had discovered in this town.

Cecil flicked his hair out from the collar of his peacock feather cloak; Cecil had been so excited to buy it, claiming that it had only cost the ability to perceive his least favourite colour. Carlos personally couldn’t imagine a world without the colour orange.

“Don’t forget your lunch!” He called out to a retreating Cecil, who poked his head back around the door to blow him another parting kiss He rubbed his eyes and reached for his glasses, only to find that during the night someone had tinted the lenses pink, possibly a person who wasn’t in possession of a face and found their amorous feelings amusing.

~0~

Cecil did forget his lunch. He was often so eager to get to the station and start broadcasting that any trivial detail vanished from his mind in deference to his single-minded commitment to the task at hand. Carlos could relate, many a time Cecil had to drag him away from the lab and insistently feed him gluten-free pizza, both disapproving and terribly fond of his boyfriend.

He didn’t want Cecil to miss out on his lunch. Occasionally the radio host was far too active and the demands on his body resulted in dizzy spells from low blood sugar. It was Carlos’s job as a scientist and a boyfriend to provide Cecil with the care he needed. Truly it was surprising how active a career radio hosting was, Carlos had no idea that there were annual assault courses involving librarian evasion, bloodstone chanting recitals and scone baking competitions.

However, there was one small issue. The last time Carlos had entered the Radio Station without being there for the strict purpose of reporting the news, Station Management hadn’t reacted favourably. He hadn’t even made it to Cecil’s floor when the walls began to twist and convulse, great rivulets of pina colada scented saliva ran down the corridors. Needless to say, Carlos was violently spat out of the Station in a quite literal manner. Carlos often wondered if Station Management extended further than the entity behind the door with the brass plate, to the entirety of the building itself.

The previous week, a new tree had appeared in Old Town Night Vale, it’s gnarled grey branches held a myriad of items. It had been dubbed ‘The Lost and Found Tree’ by City Council.

_“Are you lost? Are you found? Do you want to be lost? Well, we can’t help you with that, just run off into the desert scrublands we don’t have time to address everyone’s requests. We can’t find you either, no one is ever found. Luckily your belongings are.”_

It wasn’t surprising in any way whatsoever that the most commonly borne fruit of the tree was NVCR shirts.

~0~0~

Carlos didn’t have a great deal of confidence in his plan. As a scientist, logically he knew that wearing a simple shirt, designating yourself as an intern was by no means a valid form of ID. He was a fairly well-known figure around Night Vale from his plethora of experiments and his boyfriend’s overly flattering accounts of his interactions with him. Then again, Hiram had initially convinced the Sheriff’s Secret Police of his status as a human.

All he needed was a brief moment inside of the building.

The shirt didn’t fit him very well, it was too tight underneath his arms. Carlos’s lack of lab coat made him feel very bare. The lab coat was his armour, a thinly veiled shield against the bizarreness of Night Vale as if daring it to try and not make sense in front of him.

The door to the Station slid open easily, so far there were no tremors that promised he would be regurgitated from the building.

A bored redhead scrutinised him as he went past the main desk, she held a coffee cup out in front of her disdainfully as if it was a particularly unpleasant-smelling gym shoe. She blinked at him as if her eyes were having trouble focusing on him.

“I’m here to bring lunch to Cecil.” He announced, sounding far braver than he actually felt. There was no rational reason to fear the short intern but her unpleasant demeanour made him wary.

She gave an annoyed huff, “Yeah, well you can bring this to him.” She thrust the paper cup into his hand roughly, a small turquoise trickle of liquid leaked from the top as it was tilted precariously. “Tell him that his new Jaws chapter sucks!”

“Uh, right...” He was alarmed by her hostility and adjusted the lunch container under one arm while steadying the cup of unidentifiable liquid. He wondered whether he should take a sample of it back to his lab.

The redhead scowled, “A radio internship will be great they said, character-building they said. Full of primal fear or intense boredom depending on the weather they did **not** say.” Carlos tried to make a sympathetic gesture, nodding his head sadly while trying not to jostle the cup that seemed to be actively pulsating in his grasp. “Say, are you a new intern? You look kind of familiar, do I know you?”

Carlos’s heart rate increased, he didn’t like lying to people, and he wasn’t very good at it. He couldn’t even convince his physics teacher that that wasn’t a Star Trek comic he was hiding in his advanced physics textbook. “Yes, I’m an intern...a new one...here...who works in this building...who you don't know.” A strange chill worked its way up Carlos’s spine, there was the intense feeling that he was being watched, he dismissed it as his own paranoia.

The other intern gave him an odd look before shrugging dismissively. “ ‘kay, I’m Maureen.”

~0~0~0~

The weather was currently playing as Carlos approached the door leading to Cecil’s recording booth. He spent a long indulgent moment watching his boyfriend, he had discarded his cloak and had his fluorescent pink sleeves rolled up exposing his forearms, the delightfully swirling indigo patterns danced across the surface of his skin idly. The longer that Carlos was with Cecil the more he forgot what life was like without him.

Before, he was a scientist, a title that thrilled him but gave him boundaries. A scientist was all anyone saw him as. Now he was a boyfriend, a partner, a lover, someone who cherishes and is cherished. Carlos was still surprised that his self-concept could alter to include Cecil, nestled into the space underneath his ribcage.

Carlos knocked tentatively on Cecil’s door. The radio host peered through the glass and furrowed his brow. The door swung open, “Oh, I thought Intern Maureen was getting lunch.”

Carlos grinned him, “Consider yourself surprised.” He handed Cecil his lunch along with the squirming cup.

Cecil furrowed his brow, “I am...surprised?” He replied in a questioning manner.

Carlos felt a flicker of doubt, the happy fluttering in his stomach curdled into something sour. Normally Cecil’s face lit up in delight at the sight of him, his mouth curved into an irresistible smile. Cecil just looked confused, aloof even.

“Thank you.” He continued a bit more forcefully, tugging the lunch out of the grasps of a bemused Carlos. “Now, I need you to go and investigate the Obsidian Lamp.”

“I’m sorry?” Carlos refocused on his boyfriend, who gave next to no acknowledgement of his presence.

“There is an Obsidian Lamp. Haven’t you been listening to the news?” He shook his head somewhat patronisingly, “It’s important that you pay attention if you want a future here, futures are never guaranteed. The past is an obscure memory and the future is a lost dream.”

The pang in Carlos’s chest intensified to pressure playing a discordant harmony on his heartstrings. Maybe this was what people meant when they claimed the ‘honeymoon phase’ of a relationship ends. He immediately felt guilty for not paying more attention to Cecil’s show; his boyfriend deserved more from him.

“Uh, okay, sure. I can do that. I’ll investigate it for you.” If Cecil wanted him to examine an interesting scientific phenomenon then he would be happy to offer his skills. “Do you want me to swing by your place later?”

Cecil gave him an uncomprehending look; he raked his hair back with his fingers and slumped slightly against the door frame. “Why would you do that? Just report back to the Station when you’re done.”

“Oh, okay,” Carlos replied quietly. He didn’t know what he’d done to upset Cecil but he could be professional, scientific. He would investigate the Obsidian Lamp for him. Cecil’s behaviour was a jarring contrast to his gentle caresses and mirth earlier in the day. Carlos shoved his feelings down violently, here he was distracting his boyfriend at work, no wonder he was being dismissive. He should be more respectful of Cecil’s boundaries.

~0~0~0~0~

“Blogger!” Snarled an angry voice across the road.

A hatchet soared through the air over Carlos’s shoulder and collided with the glass front of Jackie Fierro’s Pawn Shop. The shrill sound resonated in Carlos’s ears as he leapt out of the way. He hissed in pain as several small shards of glass managed to cut the left arm he was using as a shield. The red-faced woman shot him a seething glare before retreating into a trashcan, lying in wait for a new victim to appear.

~0~0~0~0~0~

Carlos felt unnerved, there was an uncomfortable itch under his skin, a kind of restlessness that wouldn’t abate. He needed to find the Obsidian Lamp for the Station. **For Cecil** , he corrected.

He examined his arm cautiously, luckily there didn’t seem to be any glass in the cuts, they weren’t that deep anyway. He had more important things to be concerned with. There was science to do, **news to report.**

A low gurgling noise drew his attention to Mrs Kennedy, owner of the Night Vale Sweet Shop and Municipal Firing Range. She was walking a dog, a perfectly ordinary brown dog that seemed to be leaving a slick green trail behind it. The mucous-like substance started to coagulate and form one cohesive blob which was also shaped surprisingly like a dog. It walked alongside Mrs Kennedy’s terrier, its wet paws made a sickening slapping noise against the concrete with every step.

Carlos wanted to know what this second dog was composed of, whether it had independent sentience from the host it came from and how durable it was since it seemed to leave a trail of slime behind it. He wanted to **report** its existence to Cecil. Carlos’s finger’s twitched with the urge to dial Cecil’s number, already thoroughly engrained in his long term memory, carved into his temporal lobe.

The dog’s gelatinous doppelganger suddenly took notice of Carlos’s scrutiny, with a wet meaty hiss it lurched forward. An unruffled Mrs Kennedy, completely at ease with the existence of her new second dog made a token effort to calm it. Her attempt was to no avail as it tried to bite Carlos.

Carlos didn’t know if its teeth were as soft as the rest of its body but he didn’t want to find out first hand. He came to the utterly scientific evaluation that retreat was the most acceptable outcome.

He almost slipped in the oozing trail left by the ‘dog’ as he ran down the streets, past the dark alleyway leading to the Wheat-and-Wheat-by-Product-Speakeasy that they all pretended didn’t exist. The more he ran from the dog, the heavier the slime trail that followed him grew until the dog completely wore itself down to a weak lime green coating on the sidewalk.

Panting for breath, Carlos dialled Cecil’s number.

“Cecil!” He gasped out.

“Carlos?” Cecil’s warm mellifluous tones enveloped his name tenderly, “What’s wrong?”

“Dog-slime-thing...it-it...chased me.” He took a deep breath, “It’s g-gone now.”

“Oh, are you okay?” Worry tinged his boyfriend’s lovely voice.

Carlos rested his head against the wall of the Last Bank of Night Vale. “Better now for hearing your voice.”

There was a dull thud, as though Cecil had dropped the phone on his end. “That’s so sweet of you to say.” His voice came out higher than before, “You’ll never guess what. I forgot my lunch again!” He groaned.

Carlos frowned; maybe he was delirious from all of the running. Cross country was never his speciality back in school. “Honey, I know. I went over to the Station to bring you lunch.”

There was a pause on the other end. “Oh Carlos, as sweet as the gesture is, you know you can’t come into the Station when I’m broadcasting.” There was a loud crashing noise in the background and indistinct mumbling. “Sorry about that, Maureen was complaining that sharing a bed is an overused trope. She is wrong, so very wrong. **I am going to show her how wrong she is**.” His voice grew threatening.”

Carlos chuckled at his antics, still somewhat bewildered by his denial of seeing him at the Station. But Night Vale was all about denying things that you saw; maybe he couldn’t publically acknowledge it over the phone in case Station Management retaliated.

“It has been a weird day at the station. We got a new intern, not sure what he’s called...he...well...never mind.”

“You always have new interns.” Carlos dismissed, “Anyway, talk to you later.”

“Goodbye Carlos, I love you!”

Carlos hit **‘end call’** feeling his heart race. Cecil wasn’t shy about expressing his affection. He wanted to say the words back to Cecil, of course, he did. But they had only been dating for three months, was that too soon? He had known him a whole year before dating him. He just wanted to be certain that what he had with Cecil was permanent before he invested in it. He hadn’t fallen in love at first sight, there was a logical gradual increase of his feelings, ameliorated by spending time together. Cecil’s feelings were overwhelming and he was undeserving of his high regard; he just wanted Cecil to have a chance to fully appreciate what he was getting into.

Cecil’s declaration on the phone did help in quelling his anxiety over their earlier interaction at the Station. Yet, he couldn’t help but second guess himself, maybe if you say ‘I love you’ too often the words become commonplace, lack substance. Maybe it was just habit that made Cecil end his call that way.

~0~0~0~0~0~0~

It hadn’t occurred to him before but it was odd that Cecil hadn’t mentioned where to find the Obsidian Lamp. Given the unusual properties of Night Vale’s shifting boundaries and locations, Cecil generally made the effort to explicitly give directions to Carlos.

Carlos scratched at his arms, disturbing one of the nastier cuts. The itchy feeling was back, the need to look around, the urge to discover. It was a feeling he was familiar with as a scientist, Night Vale was a treasure trove of discoveries. He **needed to find** the Obsidian Lamp. He swung his arms in the humid air.

Come to think of it the shirt didn’t fit him too badly, it must have stretched out from him wearing it. He would have gone back to the lab to change into his normal clothes but he hadn’t brought his car with him, it was too hot to trudge through the heat back to the lab. He didn’t want to go back to the lab. _Huh..._ he always wanted to retreat into the comfort of his lab, _oh well,_ there were other things he had to do.

There was an odd tugging feeling in Carlos’s chest, as if an invisible thread had wrapped itself around him and was tugging him. It wasn’t a physical sensation, Carlos immediately began to catalogue his bodily responses, he wasn’t being pulled by a physical force he couldn’t see. He remained stock-still for a moment. _No,_ there was no force acting upon his body, compelling him to move, he determined that it must be psychological.

He didn’t want to indulge the feeling, strange sensations were as common as weeds in Night Vale, they just tended to be more deadly.

Even still he couldn’t help but follow where the gentle tugging wanted to lead him.

The Dog Park.

Obsidian lamp had brought to mind imagery of a small lava lamp that one might find on a coffee table in someone’s living room. Lamp, Carlos supposed wasn’t an inapt descriptor of the shape but it did seem to omit the massive size of the great obelisk before him.

The ancient dust-laden glass contained swirling depths of inky dark waters, vicious unrelenting tides that battered against the glass in a futile effort to escape.

_Oh, sweet statistics, what is that?_

As he approached a person in an armoured vest stopped him. Their face was almost completely covered by a balaclava, what seemed to be glow sticks outlined the roughly cut out holes in the frayed fabric. Upon further inspection Carlos noticed that the rest of the person’s uniform was decorated with fluorescent yellow glow sticks in the shape of anatomically correct hearts.

“You are not authorised to approach, Citizen.” Their voice came out as a low whisper, the reduced volume in no way detracted from the commanding quality of their voice.

Carlos cleared his throat, many a time he had to deal with members of the Sheriff’s Secret Police being unwilling to accommodate his investigations. Luckily Cecil seemed to have some sway over the public’s perception of him, as soon as he endorsed his team’s scientific ventures the town became a lot more willing to indulge them.

“I’m an Inte-scientist.” He choked on the words, forcing their way out of his mouth. “I’m here to investigate and report on the Obsidian Lamp.”

“Uh-huh,” They sounded sceptical, “We’ve all been scientists, you’re not special. And I can read. You’re an intern not a scientist.”

Carlos glanced down at his shirt, “What? No. It’s me, Carlos the Scientist.” He added the last part with a degree of reluctance, knowing that this town seemed to refuse to acknowledge the existence of his last name.

“Yeah, sure, move along buddy.” One hand shot out to shove him back roughly. Letting out a squeak of alarm, Carlos stumbled back. His mind whirled in a frenzy, he was obviously Carlos, his face wasn’t obscured by his half-baked disguise attempt to get into the station.

His protests only seemed to aggravate the officer. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately for the person involved, they were both distracted by a piercing shriek coming from the woman lingering in front of the Obsidian Lamp.

A dark tendril forced its way through the glassy prison it was encased in and managed to ensnare the hapless citizen.

The officer arguing with him started to back away from the Lamp, they held their hands up in a gesture of peace. “Have at it Intern, I’m not paid enough to deal with this.”

One of the not-so-discrete black vans belonging to the Agents from the Vague yet Menacing Government Agency was parked outside of the Dog Park; now he was paying attention to it, Carlos could hear Cecil’s voice pouring out.

 _“-remember, flossing will not only improve your dental care but it can also be used to destroy your enemies-claims the Night Vale Dental Health Board. On a lighter note my new intern has found his way to the Obsidian Lamp. I wasn’t too sure about him; sometimes interns aren’t just cut out for the leg work in radio. They lack the instinct to investigate. Even if they have perfect hair...”_ The voice stuttered, _“That is to say, pretty good hair...no one’s hair is as perfect as Carlos’s...but that intern is a close contender.”_

Carlos chose not to dwell on Cecil’s comments. At least he tried. That which made him special, something as mundane as his hair was evidently becoming ordinary in Cecil’s eyes.

Carlos switches his focus back to the poor woman, her eyes were stained the same colour as the liquid in the lamp as she was seemingly restrained by thick tendrils made up of the black waters. The scent of burning rubber assaulted Carlos’s nose as he came closer to the Lamp.

“I’m sorry! S-so sorry!” She wailed, feebly, “I cheated on Jackson with his best friend, Jeff.” She sniffed, “I told Margot that her jumper flattered her body shape but I knew it made her look like a potato!” She devolved into more violent sobs. “I acknowledged an Erika!” The dull chime that signified the acknowledgement of angels rang dully, masked almost entirely by the woman’s distress. She continued to babble more and more of her secrets, Carlos found it impossible to determine a pattern.

A tall man with blue hair tried to pull her away from the Lamp, only to find himself tangled in it as well. Putrid wet vines forced their way around him and flooded the sclera of his eyes. “I cheated on you too Anabelle, Jeff told me we had a connection!” He lamented, “I once threw a snowball at a Government Agent van and blamed Tracy Danvers.” He tried to physically stop the words from leaving his mouth, he was unsuccessful, “I ate a burrito yesterday. It contained wheat.”

Truly it seemed that the minor and major offences they confessed to were intermixed randomly. Carlos had to find a way of freeing the people from the Obsidian Lamp, he had to tell Cecil about it. **He had to report it to the Station.**

Something was wrong; the itch under his skin wouldn’t go away. Carlos’s mind was filled with the urge to write a long solipsistic editorial on onion gravy and the nature of humanity. He let out a groan and clutched his head in dismay, **he had to report, had to write, had to broadcast.**

Thoroughly distracted, he didn’t notice one of the arching black tendrils soaring through the air towards him until it was too late. Carlos crumpled to the ground, feeling simultaneously too hot and too cold. His mind had a clarity that his fumbling tongue did not.

 _“Oh dear, it seems that the new intern has been consumed by the fathomless midnight spiral poorly held at bay by its aged confines. I had hopes for this one too.”_ Cecil’s voice flowed through his ears, reminding him of the many suppressed words he hadn’t allowed himself to say, to acknowledge.

The pungent scent of rubber and tar engulfed him mercilessly, his limbs were like liquid under the Obsidian Lamp’s forceful beholding.

“I-I enjoy geology, even though it’s one of the forbidden s-sciences here.” He could feel terror rising in him, this confession was nothing compared to what he may be forced to say. “I-I don’t think Steve Carlsberg is so b-bad!” Cecil was going to murder him.

_“There is no accounting for taste. Dear listeners, the victims of the Obsidian Lamp, in its thrall are uttering their most profound secrets. Even if they live to escape its frenzied grasp the repercussions of their confessions may make them regret having escaped. I’m going to go and report live, since our intern seems to have fallen to the Obsidian Lamp. To the family of Intern...what was his name?...”_

Carlos didn’t know if this would be the thing that killed him. Choking out his secrets until he was an empty husk. The worst part was that all throughout his torment, Cecil would be there to narrate it. If Cecil knew what was happing down here, why didn’t he care that he was one of the victims? Everything hurt, it hurt to speak, to think, to feel.

“I didn’t want to get involved with the man I'm in love with because I didn’t believe he could truly love me.” Carlos’s most devastating confession forced it’s way past his lips, tears streamed from his eyes, mixing with the poisoned waters holding him, “I’m not perfect. I’m not special. So I didn’t believe him.” He took a great gasp for air, “But then I did believe him, his ardent affection and c-commitment didn’t waver. So I knew it must be my fault. I’d given him the wrong impression that I’m greater than I am, a scientist.”

He spluttered as black liquid trickled out of his nose. “I thought one day, he’d see me for what I truly was. He is far more extraordinary than I could ever be. I knew when he realised this, that him no longer loving me would ruin me completely.”

There it was. The thing he didn’t want to think about. How could a man fall in love with another ‘instantly.’ It wasn’t possible, that’s what he had thought anyway. Cecil’s affections hadn’t wavered over time, it was more than a crush, more than a liking for his physical appearance.

Carlos had given him the impression he was somehow the town’s saviour, bravely venturing under lane five, he wasn’t brave, he had been foolhardy. He wasn’t self-reliant, the first thing a scientist ought to be, he needed Cecil.

And Cecil would wake up one day and realise this, that he was too good for Carlos.

Carlos was relieved when a far more trivial confession burst past his lips. “I dressed up and pretended to be an intern so I could bring my boyfriend lunch.”

The constant narration that had accompanied Carlos’s painful revelations ceased to a halt. The tenacious lifeline that was both a comfort and a final misery added to his torment paused.

 _“Carlos?”_ His name echoed from a radio he couldn’t see, his eyes were so overwhelmed by tears and black fluid.

“Cecil.” He whispered hoarsely. He half wondered if uttering Cecil’s name alone counted as a confession, a confession of his adoration for the man and his current turmoil.

“Oh, no. Oh, my sweet Carlos. What did you do?”The voice was too solid, too real. It lacked the gentle haze given to it by the radios embrace. Bleary eyes attempted to focus on the figure standing in front of him.

“Silly, silly Carlos. Don’t you know, in Night Vale, what you claim to be is what you are.” His rich voice calmed Carlos’s turbulent thoughts, “If you claim your lies as your truth then the truth they will become.”

“Cecil, stay back!” Carlos urged. He was still on his knees, inky tendrils choked his throat and his limbs as it coated both his insides and his exterior.

Cecil shook his head determinedly, “No, no. They want the truth, they can have it.” Cecil kneeled beside him on the damp grass, the feather’s of his cloak were skewed oddly as though he had forced himself through a great crowd to reach Carlos. “I love you. I will always love you. I know exactly who you are.” Warm arms coiled around him possessively disregarding the prior claim by the Obsidian Lamp. Carlos let out a muffled sob against Cecil’s shoulder.

Cecil reluctantly pulled away, he glared at the tendrils entwined around Carlos. “You can’t have him.” Carlos swore that he saw the tendrils recoil slightly under Cecil’s forceful scrutiny. He gave Carlos a lingering look and moved to stand before the Obsidian Lamp.

“I said, you can’t have my boyfriend!” His voice didn’t quiver or falter, it was as relentlessly convincing and enticing as it sounded on the radio, lulling the town to sleep or guiding them through unfurling terrors.

“I know a thing or two about knowing the truth, kind of my job really." He added lightly, "It isn’t always easy, and people don’t always want you to know the truth. Sometime’s that’s better, and sometime’s it isn’t.” He turned to meet Carlos’s downcast eyes. He fully intended to remind Carlos of certain truths, over and over again for as long as they both lived.

“You masquerade as a being that wants to know the truth, but that’s a lie isn’t it.” Cecil’s third eye snapped open; it cast a haunting light onto the dull cracked glass of the towering Lamp. “Because I think I know you, and the thing you want isn’t knowledge or honesty. You want to make people suffer,” His lips curled into a vicious grin. “That is your truth!”

The tendrils grew slack around Carlos and started to slink away. The Lamp started to emit a painful whimpering sound as if it had been wounded. He coughed up the rest of the vile, tar-like fluid nestled in his lungs, it rolled away across the grass and seeped back into the cracks of the glass container. The same began to happen to everyone else who had been caught by the Obsidian Lamp.

Carlos managed to haul himself to his feet and stand beside Cecil. “That was brilliant Cecil.” His mind furiously began working on the relationship between Cecil’s speech and the resulting behaviour from the Lamp. “Forcing it to confront its own truth was...inspired.”

As a man who was accustom to speaking his mind so blatantly on the radio for all to hear his innermost thoughts, Carlos doubted that the Lamp could have forced any truths out of him that he wouldn’t willingly speak of his own accord.

Cecil’s hands curled around his wrists tightly as he gazed intently into Carlos’s eyes. “I can see you now. I wasn’t looking hard enough before, but I see you.”

All at once Carlos felt incredibly guilty, his boyfriend had to suffer through his own self-pitying insecurity and had remained resolutely strong throughout it.

“No, look at me, Carlos.” He drew Carlos’s attention back sternly, “I know who you are, and I love who I know.” His grip softened, all three of his eyes remained fixed on him. “I think you should take your shirt off.”

“What?” Carlos was thrown by the non-sequitur. “I don’t think now is the time for-for that.” His face flushed crimson under Cecil’s gaze.

The radio host let out a huff of laughter, “Ah, no. At least not right now. I’m merely suggesting that you should resign your position at the Station.” Gentle fingers stroked their way up his battered and bleeding arm, “It is rather difficult to concentrate on the version of you in my head when you insist on being something different in reality.” His forehead creased, “Now I know what I’m looking for it is a lot easier.”

Carlos shook his head, “It doesn’t work like that. Just because I called myself an intern, it doesn’t mean I was an intern. It doesn’t mean I wasn’t Carlos.”

“Lovely Carlos, my wondrous scientist I wouldn’t love you any less for not being a scientist.” He pressed a kiss to Carlos’s forehead. “What we know as reality, is a lot more malleable than you tend to think. You wanted to be something else, temporarily but the more you committed to it the more you became it. And Station Management doesn't like to let its property go.” Carlos collapsed against Cecil’s chest; letting his boyfriend hold him, keep him safe and steady.

“There is a reason after all why lying was outlawed here.” He murmured into Carlos’s hair. His chastising words were soothed by each small kiss he placed on his head and around the shell of his ear.

"Perhaps you should fire me." Carlos teased, trying to keep the exhaustion out of his voice.

Cecil pulled away to smile at him wickedly, "You're due a performance review, Mister Scientist."

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

“That is much better,” Cecil claimed, he looked Carlos up and down, admiring his lab coat. “Night Vale’s scientist, my scientist.”

Carlos glanced down at his lab coat, it wasn’t anything special but it made Cecil happy, and he was happy that Cecil was happy. He dropped the intern shirt in the laundry hamper warily as if it was a venomous snake. The underlying itching feeling, compelling him to report and seek out potential news faded away as the shirt slipped between his fingers.

He threw himself down on the bed next to Cecil who immediately coiled around him with one leg thrown over his own and a hand on his chest and in his hair. Carlos felt safe, Cecil was safe.

Part of him wondered if claiming he was an intern was the only variable that resulted in his day going so disastrously since most interns seemed to run headfirst into danger.

Another part of him pondered whether Cecil’s influence was far more potent than he had previously believed. Was Cecil’s regard for him somehow enough to keep him safe from the horrors of Night Vale? Perhaps denouncing who he was to some degree erased that safety. _No, that was silly_ , Cecil was just a man. He can’t have any influence beyond the words he speaks to the people around him. _Still..._

“Cecil?”

“Hmm.” Cecil buried his face against Carlos’s neck, leaving soft butterfly kisses there.

“The Lamp made me divulge all kinds of truths that I didn’t want to.”

“Shh...” Cecil whispered, he raised his head up to meet Carlos’s eyes, his own were filled with endless devotion. “We’ve talked about that. My feelings aren’t going anywhere. Emotional theft was made illegal a decade ago.”

Carlos smiled indulgently, “No, I just thought you deserved a truth from me that was given of my own free will.”

Cecil shifted in Carlos’ grasp and tightened his own hold on the scientist. “If this is about those geology textbooks, I fully supp-”

“I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Why do I only have the motivation to write the evening before a week of exams? I need to revise, this is exemplar procrastination at its finest. 
> 
> I basically looked around my room trying to come up with an idea for a villain. My eyes landed on my lava lamp and thought fair enough, weirder things have happened in Night Vale.


End file.
